What the greeble did you just greebling say about me, you little ship? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in greebled ships, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Space Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed Death Star kills. I am trained in Roddy McDowell warfare and I’m the top laser sniper in the entire Federation armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another Alderaan. I will wipe you the greeble out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this dimension, mark my greeble words. You think you can get away with saying that greeble to me over the Internet? Think again, Jawa. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of guardians across the galaxy and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the ion storm, trash compactor Dianoga. The time-space anomaly that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re greebling dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can Klingon-shiv you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bat’leth. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Colonial Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to hunt your miserable bug off the face of LV-426, you little face-hugger. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your greebled proboscis. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the Space Bucks, you goddamn 1-2-3-4-5 combination toter. I will ooze fury all over you and you will drown in it. Shut up, Wesley.